


The Monster Inside

by splatterpop



Category: Generation X (Comic), New Mutants, X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Present Tense, Psychological Trauma, Romance, Self-Harm, Time Travel, general self-destructive behavior, love quadrilateral, two trainwrecks passing in the night
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2019-04-23 20:41:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14340504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/splatterpop/pseuds/splatterpop
Summary: A depressed Illyana has one glass of champagne too many at Kitty and Piotr's wedding, and meets a young woman with a past that mirrors her own.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 1, i know jubilee knew baby illyana but i’ve always assumed that adult illyana was pulled from the version that “died” during inferno and she doesn’t have those memories  
> 2, i know monet and illyana interacted like twice in ivx and inexplicably hated each other but i’m choosing to ignore that, just like everyone ignored the fact that mikhail couldn’t have caused child!illyana to die of the legacy virus because he infected teen!illyana and child!illyana is literally a time duplicate from before she was infected. sorry that’s just always bugged me um. ty pls enjoy i love you

The ceremony's over and Illyana rushes for the champagne with as much subtelty as she can manage. Subtlety's never been her strong suit, and today? Fuck today. Today could burn in the deepest pits of Limbo. Today feels like the worst day of her life, and that's coming from a woman who's spent years as an empty husk without a soul, even more years trapped in a hell dimension, watched her brother die on television, been forced to murder her best friend, been driven insane by an avian space god, sacrificed her existence to return to a second childhood she doesn't even remember... The thought trails off as she guzzles the sparkling booze and realizes she's lost track of the number of horrifying events in her life. "I should really make a list," she mutters.

"Maybe you should congratulate the couple first?" Rahne asks, smiling nervously. The werewolf is standing by the table sipping a ginger ale. Illyana rolls her eyes and the action makes her feel a little woozy.  _Was that my second glass?_ she wonders. Illyana nods to Rahne and pours another glass before walking hesitantly toward the beaming couple, walking past a nervous looking Doug Ramsey and some of the younger generations of X-kids chatting to each other. Illyana doesn't even know most of their names. That girl moving in on the champagne is named after a painter or something?

Illyana closes her eyes for a moment, picturing her first memory of Kitty Pryde. Back when she was a little girl feeling lost and lonely in a strange country, Kitty had seemed so... Wise. Beautiful. Glowing. Even then she saw the way Kitty looked at her brother. It made her a little uncomfortable, she remembered, but it was long, painful years until she realized why.

Maybe it was Cat that made her figure it out. Cat was a very different woman, of course. But occasionally, rarely, she saw bits of Kitty in her.  _Which,_  Illyana thinks with more than a little melancholic irony,  _makes it a tad more disturbing when I murdered her._  She shakes her head to clear it of past trauma. She's let all that go.

"Pozdravljaju s dnem svad'by," Illyana says, trying to smile. "Congratulations, you two," she says again for Kitty's benefit. She's never sure how much Russian Kitty knows. "And it's about damn time," she lies, "I was-"  _wondering if I'd have to step in and take her for myself_ , is what she almost says in her anxious buzz, but she's mercifully cut off by a shriek from the catering tables.

"-anymore!" slurs the voice in an accent Illyana can't place. Piotr narrows his eyes in concern and Kitty sighs, and Illyana turns toward the voice.  _Rescued! I can't believe I almost said that._

The girl with a painter's name -  _Cézanne? No, who the fuck would name their kid Cézanne, that's dumb_  - was hovering a half-meter off the ground, clutching a bottle of champagne and... Is that her making the tables float? Illyana scans the room for telekinetics, but Rachel's the only one she recognizes and she looks just as shocked as the rest of the crowd. That vampire girl -  _Is she even still a vampire? -_  who's always nice but condescending to Illyana and the British guy with half a face rush towards painter girl.  _Renoir? That's not it. Manet? I think it's Manet. Who the fuck names their kid-_

"Monet!" Yells the maybe-not-a-vampire-anymore.

_Eh, close enough._

"Hey calm down girl you're being like, really weird and making things awkward and-" Vampire Girl's baby starts wailing from No-Face Boy's arms, "-Oh jeez sorry kiddo," the girl continues, "He hates it when I yell. And now I'm the one being weird. Sorry everyone! Keep, y'know, doing wedding things!"

For a moment it feels like the pressure's gone out of the room. Then Monet flies into Vampire Girl -  _I think she's got a ridiculous name too?_  - grabs her by the dress, and throws her into the cake.

"I'm sick to death of your apples, Jubilee!" She screams.

_Knew it was something silly._

Monet floats higher in the air, nearly touching the roof of the tent they're all under. "I'm sick to death of all of it! I can't do this anymore!" Tears start to form in the girl's eyes. "I can't-"

A look of anger for a moment, then surprise as she drops to the floor, limp.

The room is silent for a moment, and then Vampire Girl, No Face Boy, and a few others rush toward this Monet girl. Illyana glances back at Kitty and Piotr as they're approached by a guilty looking Rachel. "-just sedated her a bit," she hears the telepath say.

Illyana, sobered a bit by the spectacle, looks at the glass in her hand, then the dazed girl lying on the grass. "I'm going to see if I can help," she says to no one in particular, and the look of surprise she sees on Kitty's face makes her heart die a little.  _The way she looks at me now... I have to get out of here._

Monet is delirious, her head resting on Probably-Not-A-Vampire-Since-She-Just-Got-Tossed-Like-a-Salad Jubilee's lap. Illyana can make out a bit of French and a language she doesn't recognize on top of occasional English - "Let me stop," or sometimes "Make it stop."

"God, Jono, what's happened?" says Jubilee, cradling what Illyana assumes is her friend.

"She's been through a lot, luv," says a voice in Illyana's head, which she assumes comes from the British boy with no mouth. Telepathic accents give Illyana a headache.

* * *

 

Illyana lifts Monet out of the stepping disc, glancing around the apartment. She'd volunteered to take the girl home - anything to get away from that place. Jubilee steps into the dark apartment and runs into the doorframe.

"Ow! Damn! Still used to night vision," says the Almost-Certainly-Like-99%-Sure-Now-Ex-Vampire. Illyana sets Monet, still mumbling, on the floor and flips a light switch.

The apartment is spartan, almost empty. Jubilee cocks her head to the side. "This is your apartment, M?" she asks the near-catatonic girl. Monet responds with a single loud sob.

"You've never been here? You knew the address, though," says Illyana.

"I had to mail her some of her stuff after she got de-merged from her evil brother," says Jubilee as if that doesn't raise way more questions than it answers. "Maybe she just moved in?"

"I like it," Illyana says, picking Monet up again. "Simple. Utilitarian."

"Those aren't words I'd use to describe Monet," says Jubilee.

"Anyway, thanks for your help," Jubilee says as they lay the mumbling girl onto her surprisingly expensive-looking bed. "I guess you can go now, I can-" She's interrupted by a buzzing coming from her purse. The small girl fumbles with the phone for a moment, nearly dropping it. "I hate purses so much," she mutters, then, looking at her phone, "Oh no." She looks up at Illyana. "Can you stay with her for a bit? Shogo got in the cake somehow and Jono's freaking out. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Illyana sighs in relief at the excuse to stay away from Kitty and Piotr. "Happy to."

"Thanks, Illyana," smiles the young woman as a stepping disc envelopes her, sending her back to the celebration.

Illyana sighs again, glancing at the girl on the bed, her eyes still quivering with fear. "Guess it's just us, then."

* * *

 

It's not long before Rachel's mind zap starts to wear off.

"You're not going to throw me anywhere, are you?" Illyana asks as Monet rises to a sitting position.

"No."

"Great."

They sit in silence for a moment. Then Monet asks Illyana a question that knocks the wind out of her.

"Have you ever been held prisoner?"

Illyana freezes. Limbo. Seven years in hell, literally. She shivers.

Monet continues. "In our... Line of work it's a common hazard, I suppose. Still, it can leave a mark." Her hand reaches for her face, and she pulls back at its touch. "Oh listen to me, I can't help but sound like them..."

Illyana sits on the bed, dazed by the triggered memories. "I spent a long time as a prisoner," she says to the girl, "many years."

Monet turns, and to Illyana's surprise, she smiles. "Then you understand! You-" Monet looks at Illyana and some of the clouds fall from her eyes. "Of course. I'm sorry. I've heard about you. Your childhood."

Illyana feels a twinge of anger.  _Everyone's heard of me, haven't they? The lonely queen of Limbo. The pitiful lost child._

"I guess we've got a lot in common," says the girl, and Illyana's anger subsides, replaced with concern.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"My brother," begins Monet, "Marius. He was - is - a devil, in so many ways. Our childhood was... It's not important. He hated me. Transformed me. I spent years trapped. He turned me into a monster, quite literally."

Illyana's eyes soften.  _We really do have a lot in common._

"I couldn't leave. He fed on me and the thing he turned me into wouldn't... I couldn't die. I couldn't escape. I couldn't speak. I couldn't-" Monet trails off, reaching for Illyana's face for a moment before pulling away. "It ended eventually, of course. I was rescued. Our community, our ridiculous X people, they pulled me out and gave me," she laughs at the word, "freedom."

"But I was already there, with friends I'd never met, a personality I'd never... She wasn't ME!" She sobs, and Illyana can feel that pressure you only feel when a telepath is very, very upset. "They took my place and they weren't even... I love my sisters but they..."

Illyana puts her hand on the girl's shoulder.

"I'm not making much sense, am I? I'm sorry, I've never really... I don't talk about these things. I've tried so hard to be the person everyone already thought I was. For years! Pretending to be something I'm not. And Everett and Jamie and did they even... I lose everyone. And now, after Marius - he found me again, kept me prisoner again," her voice cracks and her tears stain her dress, " _made me a monster again_ , and the things we - I - did..."

Illyana is shaking. The champagne had worn off long ago and now the heartbreak of losing Kitty to her brother and the flood of memories this girl - this woman - was bringing out of her was getting to be too much to bear. She slumped in the bed and reached out for the woman, wrapping her arms around her, pulling her close, desperate to give and receive the comfort of human contact.

"I know," she says, stroking Monet's long black hair and holding back her tears.


	2. Chapter 2

Illyana wakes up in the morning still in that bed, still in the dress she magicked up for the wedding, with a hangover and a feeling of embarrassment and guilt she can’t quite nail down the source of. She didn’t do anything to feel embarrassed or guilty about last night. Did she?

_Well, I’m still wearing my clothes, and there are no extra bodily fluids on them, so probably not._

Illyana looks around the room. Monet, still in her dress from the night before as well (a very expensive-looking little black thing) is sitting on the opposite side of the huge bed, facing the wall. With the sun shining into the small slit windows at the top of the tall grey walls, the undecorated bedroom looks very much like a prison, though one with a bed that probably cost more money than Illyana’s ever seen.

“I made a bit of an ass of myself last night. Thank you for your help,” she says without turning.

“Sure,” says Illyana, rubbing her temples. She sits up, waiting for the woman beside her to speak. It’s some time before she does.

“I couldn’t talk to her,” says Monet from her spot on the sheets. “Jubilee, she came and I... I was horrible to her when we were younger, you know.”

 _Oh, are we still doing this?_ thinks Illyana for a moment before shaking off the snark. _It’s too early in the morning to be such a bitch, Illyana. Save it for later._

“Ever stab her through the chest with a very large sword in a plot to regain your soul and kill your enemies?” Asks Illyana, manifesting her soul sword for a moment to verify that it is, in fact, very large.

Monet turns toward her. “... No?”

“Then I win. I’ve been pretty horrible to my friends, too.” _Sorry, Shan. I really needed my soul back though. And those gods really needed killing._

Monet smiles. “Thank you. For listening. For understanding. I’m not usually...” Her eyes lower.

“Hey, I should be thanking you. I was looking for an excuse to get out of there.”

* * *

 

“You should eat something,” Illyana says, biting into her Egg McMuffin.

Monet looks at her in disgust. “You expect me to eat... That?”

“I got pancakes too.” Illyana slides the tray of hotcakes, teleported straight to the bed from a McDonald’s in Vermont, toward Monet. It slides past her and lands on the floor.

Monet sighs, and picks up the one pancake that stayed on the tray rather than sliding onto the floor. She takes a bite and makes a face like she’s never had anything so awful in her life. She tosses the pancake behind her and Illyana winces as it hits the floor.

“I’m trying to change, but not that much,” Monet says, and Illyana almost laughs. The mood is much lighter now, her new friend seems less miserable, and Illyana is considering leaving. But if she leaves, she’ll be alone with her thoughts. And the only thing she can think about is Kitty and Piotr, and how happy they looked, and how much she hated herself for how that made her feel. _But that’s the first I’ve thought of her since leaving the wedding. Distraction is working._

“Coffee, then?” asks Illyana. She didn’t see one ready at McDonald’s and could use some to help with this hangover.

“The espresso machine hasn’t arrived yet,” says Monet.

“No, I meant, do you want to get some? There’s this place in Istanbul-”

“Oh, Kronotrop? Bring me a cappucino, or if Ahmet is making it, a flat white.”

Illyana narrows her eyes.

* * *

 

Monet, looking very unamused, sits down at a free table, the Turkish mid-afternoon sun highlighting her profile. “Was that strictly necessary?”

“Probably not,” Illyana smiles, “But it was fun.”

“I’m not sure what’s worse, being brought here against my will, or the way you chose to dress me.” Monet gestures to the oversized off-shoulder blouse and skinny jeans Illyana had conjured for her during their ‘port through Limbo.

“I think you look good,” Illyana says.

Monet looks away and sighs. “Sorry. It’s habit. The clothes are fine. And I suppose it will do me good to get out.”

Illyana finds herself admiring Monet’s smooth black hair. _She must have brushed her hair before I woke up, right? Nobody wakes up with hair that good. Maybe it’s her mutant power._ Illyana reaches for her own hair, patting down the bed head self-consciously.

A staff member approaches the two of them almost fearfully and speaks to Monet in Turkish for a moment before heading back to the counter.

Monet turns back to Illyana. “Do you mind if I ask an indelicate question?”

Illyana smirks. “That’s my favorite kind of question.”

“I know a bit about you,” begins Monet, “I’ve read your file in Xavier’s archives.”

Illyana raises an eyebrow, and Monet turns away, flipping her hair over her ear with one hand. “Of course, I’ve read every file in Xavier’s archives,” she turns back to Illyana, “I read quite quickly.”

“Still waiting for that question, Monet.”

“Patience. I’ve read your file, and it said you...” Monet trails off, and that look from the night before returns to her face - that look that tugs the thread in Illyana’s heart tied to all those painful memories - of Limbo, of Belasco, of years spent losing childhood and wandering lost. “It said you spent some time without, well, without a soul.”

Illyana closes her eyes. “Yeah.”

“When that piece of you returned, did you ever feel like the person you were before was gone, and you didn’t know who to be?”

Illyana opens her eyes, stunned. _Of course. Every single goddamn day._

“To be honest, I barely remember the person I was before.”

Monet’s eyes go wide. “Illyana, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” she says, her voice cracking. _Why is everyone in the cafe looking at me?_

Monet brings her hand to Illyana’s cheek and it’s only then that Illyana realizes how hard she’s been crying.


	3. Chapter 3

“I remember, when I almost gave up at the very end, my friend - and I really did consider her my friend - she found and rescued me, rescued the me from before Belasco, seven years old and still innocent, uncorrupted. She rescued that girl and brought her to me and said that I could be like that again, and all I could think was how broken and ruined I was. I know that’s not what she meant by doing that. She just wanted to save me. But I saw that kid and...” Illyana wipes at her face. “I realized I couldn’t remember what it was like to _be_ her. And I knew I had to die.”

Monet reaches out, taking Illyana’s hand in hers.

“So I killed myself. I killed myself and brought her back, the kid everyone wanted instead of the monster everyone feared. But I didn’t die. Not really. Belasco wouldn’t let me. He grabbed the pieces of me, bent them back into shape and threw them out when he realized he’d missed the most important piece.

“I remember all that, but it’s not real. Neither of those girls - the innocent, the New Mutant - feels like _me_. Because they’re not, not really. The New Mutant, that girl died when she wiped the Inferno from New York. The innocent, she died too. So who am I?” Illyana looks at Monet, desperate and trembling. “I try to be these girls but they’re so... Real and tangible and I’m- I’m like a shadow.”

Monet squeezes Illyana’s hand, a sad smile crossing her lips. They lie on the bed a long time, holding hands and letting silence fill the room. It’s long enough that Illyana’s mind starts to wander. Back to Kitty. And as painful as the memories are, she’d rather wallow in that pain than face the gaping hole in heart. Not yet. _I’m not strong enough._

“I spent years looking for that last piece because I felt hollow and incomplete, and once I found it, the only thing that changed was that I _cared_ about how hollow I felt.”

“Nothing else?” asks Monet.

“That, and Summers locked me in a prison cell for betraying everyone.”

“I remember that.” Monet turns onto her side, letting go of Illyana’s hand. The loss of contact gives Illyana chills. _Don’t let go._ “And then you became a god for a while.”

“The Phoenix? That was...” _Please don’t let go of me._ “It felt like surfing an avalanche. It was the most amazing thing, and the most terrifying. I never felt in control. That might have been the best part.”

“My sister Nicole feels control is very important. I suppose I did as well, for a while. Spending...” Monet turns away from Illyana, facing the wall. “Spending years inside that monster, being fed on like an animal, I _needed_ to feel in control. But when I got out, when my sisters freed me from that prison of a body, I realized I also found comfort in that lack of control. It sounds awful. Like I wanted to be a prisoner. But I just wanted to let everything fade away. I wanted - _needed -_ to rest. But I hid in the persona my sisters created for so long that I forgot who I was. And when Marius captured me again...”

Illyana puts her hand on Monet’s shoulder. _More._ She pulls herself closer. _More._ Monet turns toward her. _I need more._

Monet’s eyes go wide as Illyana pushes in for a soft, delicate kiss.

Monet flies backward from the bed so rapidly that she crashes into the side of the apartment, embedding herself in the drywall.

_Wish I could say that’s the worst reaction I’ve had from kissing a girl._

“Did you... You just...”

_Damn it Illyana, you’ve messed it all up! What were you thinking? What is wrong with you?_

“I’m sorry!” Illyana says, turning away and covering her faces. _Stupid heartbroken girl, what are you doing?_

“I...” Monet sighs. “It’s okay. I didn’t... I was just surprised.” Illyana feels Monet land back on the bed, but she doesn’t get close. “Usually if someone kisses me, I know they’re going to do it.”

“Even I didn’t know I was going to do it!” groans Illyana. _Maybe I can just open a stepping disc and disappear._

“No, I mean, I’m a telepath. But I can’t read you.”

Illyana flops onto her back. “Yeah, I get that a lot. Even Xavier couldn’t read my mind unless I wanted him to.”

“So if you want me to, I can hear your thoughts?”

Illyana’s eyes go wide. _Is that flirting? No, there’s no way. Change the subject. “_ It’s helped me keep a lot of secrets.” _Okay that was a really bad subject change. Maybe if I step back in time a few minutes I can stop this conversation from ever happening._

Before she can open a stepping disc, she feels Monet’s hand on her shoulder. “Please, I really am sorry. I was surprised, that’s all. Really.”

Illyana turns around. Monet smiles, but her eyes are still so sad.

“What kind of secrets?”

_Well, I’ve been in love with my best friend since I was 14, but she’s been in love with my brother for even longer, and they just got married, and I just want to find the deepest hole in Limbo and crawl in and die. But instead of processing my emotions like an adult I’m trying to distract myself picking at the scabs of past trauma with maybe the only person I’ve ever met who’s half as broken as me._ “Just typical teenage witch stuff, you know; murder, blood ritual, the usual.”

“You must have been very goth.”

Illyana smirks. “I’m still very goth.”

Monet smiles that sad smile and moves in for a kiss. Illyana leans into it with desperation, letting her mind disappear into the obscuring fog of this intimacy, letting her anxious heart wash away in the tide of shallow passion.


	4. Chapter 4

_Should I call her?_

Illyana sits at the edge of a molten lake, skipping stones. Well, the stones always melt before the second skip, but that’s more satisfying anyway. She opens another stepping disc to Earth and a pile of rocks drop out. She tosses another.

_What would I say? What is this, anyway? Am I just using her to get over Kitty? How could I ever get over Kitty? Why am I even talking to Monet when I know I’ll hurt her? Why do I have to hurt everyone I care about?_ Illyana sighs, and opens a portal.

* * *

Illyana falls rapidly through her stepping discs, reveling in the pain of the images that flash before her. Cat. Storm. The transmode virus. Inferno. A hundred other traumas and evils committed. Each one reassuring in the pain it brings. Each a retroactive punishment for the next sin, and each sin leading directly to the next trauma. A cascade of terrible decisions and unjust suffering. She pauses to watch herself taunt her brother, her cruelty in forcing Cyttorak’s hold onto him.

_I just wanted to punish you for taking Kitty, didn’t I?_

She returns to the lake. Summoning her soulsword, she looks at her reflection in its elaborate blade. The Darkchylde stares back.

_No, it wasn’t Piotr I wanted to punish._

* * *

“Do you want me to fix things for you?” asks Illyana.

Monet yawns, blinking sleep out of her eyes, looking remarkably disheveled leaning on the doorframe to her apartment. “It’s three in the morning, Illyana.”

“I can go back and change things, make it so your brother never traps you and your sisters never get... Whatever happened to them. I’m still not clear on the whole thing, it all sounded very confusing.”

Monet stands motionless, her eyes wide.

“I’ve done it before. Gone back and changed things. It’s even worked out, occasionally.”

Still, Monet doesn’t move. Illyana walks into the apartment without waiting for an invitation.

“You can really do that?” Monet says over her shoulder, shutting the door.

Illyana shrugs. “Sure.”

Monet closes the door and leans against it. She’s silent for a long time. Until Illyana opens a portal under their feet and they slip out of time.

* * *

“Dammit, Illyana! Don’t teleport people without their permission, it’s-” Monet freezes, stunned by the sight in front of her.

“This is the earliest I could find in the X-Men’s archives,” Illyana says. They’re standing on the roof of the Massachusetts Academy. It’s dark. A man and a woman stand on the grass below them. And a figure, wrapped in black strips of fabric, lies unconscious.

“We can start here, but I’m guessing you’d prefer to go back earlier. This is more of a proof of concept.”

Monet turns to Illyana, snarling. “You had no right to bring me here.”

Illyana is stunned. “Why-”

“You think I want to see myself like that?” She says, pointing to Penance without looking at her. “You think I want to see those two back again like nothing’s changed?” She points to Sean Cassidy, gingerly picking up the emaciated girl before him, and Emma Frost, looking uncharacteristically shaken. “What were you thinking bringing me here?”

“I didn’t mean to-”  
“Get me out of here. This is the last place I want to be.”

Illyana nods. As they step through the portal, Monet glances back for a moment. Illyana can’t read the expression on her face.

* * *

Monet rushes to her bed the instant they return. “You need to leave,” she says, diving under the covers.

“Can’t we-”

“Was I unclear? Get out.”

“I’m sorry, I just wanted-”

“Sometimes it’s not about what you want, Rasputin.”

“WILL YOU LET ME FINISH,” screams Illyana, shaking. Monet peeks out from under the covers, a shocked look on her face.

“I just started to get to know you,” Illyana begins, her face in her hands, “And it’s been so good just to have someone who knows what it’s like, but it hurts, it hurts so much, and I can never escape, I don’t get to change, and I met you and I saw how much you were hurting and if I could just do this for you, if I could change things for you, maybe I could start to feel like a person again.” Illyana looks out through her reddening fingers, and Monet’s face stares back in terror. “And I know it hurts to see these things but I can fix it, I can make it so none of this happened, and you’ll just- you’ll just become what you were always meant to be. And that’s something I can’t have.” Illyana feels the familiar warmth enveloping her. “You escaped the monster you were trapped in. Both times you got out. But I can’t get out, Monet.”

Illyana drops her hands. Her hooves click against the wood floor as she steps forward, her tail swinging behind her. The Darkchylde manifest.

“You escaped the monster, but I _am_ the monster.”


	5. Chapter 5

Illyana drops to her knees, sobbing. _She hates me now. She’ll never look at me the same way again. They never do._ _Not when they see the real me._ _So stupid! Of course she wouldn’t want to see herself like that! Of course she hates me!_

Illyana opens a stepping disc to take her somewhere - anywhere - else. She takes one last glance at Monet, eyes fearful and angry.

_I wreck everything I touch._

* * *

Illyana’s not sure how long it’s been. Time’s always been different in Limbo, and even if you’ve spent half your life there it can be tricky to keep track of. She’s been trying to bury herself in a tome Dr. Strange lent her on interdimensional spell distribution but she’s been reading the same chapter for what seems like weeks, the words pouring out of her head as soon as she reads them, pushed out by thoughts of Kitty and Monet. She still hasn’t talked to Kitty since the wedding. She hasn’t talked to _anyone_ since she left Monet.

She hasn’t lost her horns and tail, either. No longer the full Darkchylde but that in-between state she’s spent so much of her life in. Rahne told her once that being in that form changed her personality, that it was bad for her soul.

_But with a soul this withered and rotten, what difference could it possibly make?_

Finally giving up on the book, Illyana lies on her side and absent-mindedly conjures a distraction, a dancing, fairy-like figure. The way it dances reminds her of Kitty, sitting on the bed in their room, watching her practicing ballet, falling more in love with every pirouette. The figure takes on the form of her memory, a tiny teenage Kitty Pryde dancing for her. She snuffs it out with a clench of her fist, but it only splits in two, and now her brother is there dancing with Kitty. Another memory, more bittersweet, of Kitty trying to teach Piotr to dance. While they danced, Illyana watched from the sidelines and cracked jokes and felt something break inside her that never really healed.

She tries again to banish the spell but it grows again, warps and reforms, and Illyana sees her brother and the X-Men sacrificing their lives in their battle with the Adversary. This is where it all went bad. The sorrow of losing her brother, the anger at Forge for his part in things, and most of all, the horrible, gnawing, guilty hope that maybe, with Piotr dead, she finally had a chance with Kitty. It was that, more than anything else, that made her lose control. Of Limbo, of herself. And when Kitty rejected her plea to help punish Forge and looked at her that way, that mix of disappointment and fear in her eyes, what else could she do but die?

Illyana summons her soulsword and cuts the scene to shreds. It finally disappears, but she’s not done. She needs to hurt something.

* * *

Illyana puts her hoof over S’ym’s throat as he begs through bloodied lips.

“It wasn’t anything serious, boss, really!”

Illyana has no idea what he’s talking about. She picked him because she knows however much she hurts him he deserves more, but she didn’t know he was actually plotting anything. A pleasant coincidence if not a great surprise. She grins, and brings her soulsword to his face, an inch from his eyes.

“Look, you know S’ym has Limbo’s- has your best interests at heart, kiddo. Just a little misunderstanding, right? Maybe we can work out a deal, the power could be shared-”

Illyana puts the soulsword into his right eye and soaks in his screams, wishing they could drown out the turmoil in her heart. She thinks of Kitty and how she would react to seeing her like this. “ _Sure he tortured you your entire childhood, and sure he’s tried more than once to kill you and everyone you know, but you shouldn’t be mean!”_

She grimaces. Then another thought, one that surprises her: what would Monet think?

Would she judge her for her cruelty, or empathize? How would Monet deal with her own tormentor if she had him on the ropes? _Is that the real reason I wanted to see her confront her brother? To see what someone else, someone better, would do?_

She sighs, shouldering her soulsword and stepping away.

S’ym clutches his bleeding eye socket, gasping. “Glad we could work that out, boss.”

* * *

“Who is this?” asks Monet, then instantly, in a less abrasive tone, “I’m sorry, I mean, hello?”

Illyana shivers. She hasn’t spoken a word in - what, days, weeks? - except to cast spells or berate demons. She figured coming back after a week of Earth time would be enough for things to cool off, but she’s still nervous. She toggles the screen on her phone on and off anxiously. “Hey.”

“Illyana?”

“Yeah. I got your number from Guido. The look he gave me...”

Monet laughs. Illyana’s surprised by how good it feels to hear her laugh. “Things are a bit awkward there, I apologize.”

“No, I’m the one who needs to apologize. I acted horribly. I had no right to put you through that.”

“No, you didn’t.” Monet pauses. “Are you okay?”

_No._ “I’m fine. Sorry too about freaking out like that. I must have scared you.” _Please don’t hate me._

“I was scared _for_ you, Illyana.”

Illyana’s heart skips a beat. “I’d like to see you,” she says, softly.

“Oh? I thought you might not, seeing as you typically just appear in my home.”

“Sorry.”

Monet sighs audibly. “I suppose... I’d like to see you too. I’ve been worried.”

* * *

“You’ve got a... What do you people call it, a glamour? Don’t you?”

Monet and Illyana sit at the front of the Chrysler building, their feet dangling off the edge, hundreds of feet in the air. Monet’s idea.

“What do you mean?” Illyana asks. _How could you possibly know that?_

“Your stance is different. Your stride is awkward. You’re still in that...” Monet looks down at the city below them.

“That monster?” Illyana sighs, dropping the illusion.

“That’s better. Regardless, you look fine. I’m supposed to be shocked by hooves and horns? I’ve seen more disturbing looks at the Met Gala. Actually, this year’s event is all about angels and demons, you’d be perfect. Father buys me tickets every year, maybe we should go.”

Illyana smiles a little. “I’m not sure that’s my scene, Monet.”

Monet nods and looks down again. “This is the first I’ve been out since the cafe.”

_My fault._ “Me too, unless you count Limbo.”

“Jubilee visited a few times with Jono and her boy. I can’t talk to them about these things. They knew my sisters before they knew me. It never feels real, talking to them. I can’t help but fall into old habits.” Monet looks up at Illyana. _Those sad eyes again._ “I’m glad you called, Illyana. It helps to have someone that understands.”

Illyana starts to reach for Monet’s hand, but pulls back. “Right before I came here I was torturing a demon. I cut out his eye. I could have killed him, easily, but I just wanted him to suffer.”

Monet recoils.

“I’m not a good person, Monet. That’s what I was trying to tell you that night. The Darkchylde isn’t something forced on me, it _is_ me.” Illyana steps off the edge of the building, hovering on a stepping disc, turning to face Monet. “Illyana Rasputin, Magik, the Darkchylde. Just different names for the same thing. I’m not-”

“Oh, don’t be such a fucking drama queen.”

Illyana stops, stunned. “What?”

Monet stands, folding her arms. “I’ve learned drama from the best. I’ve _been_ the best. You’re putting on an act and you know it.”

Illyana doesn’t move.

“You say all these things to push me away, but you called me here. You need this just as much as I do. It doesn’t matter what you call yourself or what extraneous bits you grow, you’re just like me.” Monet takes Illyana’s hand. “You’re broken, and hurting, and clinging to the only person you’ve ever met who might understand you.”

Monet steps off the building, floating with Illyana, and when she kisses her Illyana can feel the remnants of the Darkchylde, and all the pain and the anguish and the heartache, all of it fades and slips away, dropping to the city below.


	6. Chapter 6

Illyana slumps down in the shower miserably. _That couldn’t have gone worse. Everything was right and I fucked it all up. Like I always do._

She pictures Monet’s perfect body pressed against her and even now she has to concentrate to keep from imagining Kitty instead. _I couldn’t stop seeing her, I couldn’t go through with it. Monet must be done. This time for sure. Maybe that’s the reaction I’ve been looking for all this time? Do I just want to punish myself again?_

She’s not sure how long she sits there, the water pouring out onto the marble tiles, but eventually she hears a car pull up. _Shit, is that the owner? I thought this was a vacation home?_

Illyana ports out of the stranger’s house straight to her room at Xavier’s.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Kitty Pryde is sitting on Illyana’s bed. She glares at her friend, not seeming to care that her friend is buck naked.

Illyana’s eyes go wide. Her hands shake. Her mind is a frenetic cacophony of memories. She is seven years old, being told bedtime stories by the beautiful older girl. She is fourteen, pulled back from hell by the girl she’d dreamed of for years. She is fifteen and Kitty crawls into bed with her, pouting over Piotr. She is sixteen and Kitty is leaving for Britain and she has no idea how Illyana feels. She is eighteen and Kitty hugs her, pretending to be thrilled by the soulless husk masquerading as her best friend. She is twenty-two and Kitty holds her hand as they walk through Central Park.

“Kitty.” _I can’t handle this right now. I need to go back. I need to._

Instead, Illyana rushes toward Kitty, grabbing her shoulders and pushing her onto the bed as everything that she’s been holding in all these years pours out in one kiss.

Or an attempted kiss, as Kitty screams in horror and phases Illyana through her. Illyana looks up at the horror in Kitty’s face and falls straight back to Limbo.

* * *

When her powers were first developing, Illyana had trouble controlling them precisely. She’d find herself in the right place, but the wrong time; sometimes the future, sometimes the past, sometimes even someplace parallel.

Dr. Strange had told Illyana about the multiverse, the infinite parallel universes created by every decision we make. He’d explained time travel as not so much moving from the future to the past or vice versa, but of moving from one universe to another. This is the worst thing Illyana has ever learned.

Illyana isn’t sure where she comes from anymore. She’s only rarely gone to the past to change events. It doesn’t always work out, after all, and tearing holes between universes without careful preparation is dangerous, so why risk it? But she knows that this world isn’t really hers. Even the future of the Elder Gods is closer to her original world than this time and place.

Neither the threat to the multiverse, the damage to her sense of self, or even the fact that there’s now a world where a naked Illyana Rasputin tried to kiss Kitty Pryde and then disappeared forever stop her from going back.

* * *

“I don’t know what I ‘spected,” Illyana says to the bottle of vodka. The bottle doesn’t respond. “I know she can’t um. Hrm. You are empty.” The bottle is silent. Illyana reaches into a stepping disc and pulls a full one from a shelf in St. Petersburg, popping off the cap with the tip of her soulsword.

“Um, boss.” S’ym walks into the throne room, scratching his head nervously. “Don’t see you in here very often.”

Illyana glares, embedding the soulsword in the floor beside her throne. Plant life slowly starts to spread from the crack it forms. She pours the bottle haphazardly into her face, spilling more than she manages to drink and coughing most of that back up.

“Um. You okay, boss?” S’ym asks, stepping back.

Illyana glares. _Should have done this a long time ago._

Illyana has to try seven times to cast the spell, a spell she learned years ago in this very room, but she finally gets the words right and when S’ym realizes what’s happening he has only a moment to react before his body erupts into a tumourus, pulsing mass, finally exploding as his pained scream reaches its crescendo. The gore hits Illyana in a wave and shocks her out of her stupor.

“Shit.”

Illyana looks at the bottles on the floor, now dripping with bits of what used to be S’ym.

After she finishes puking, Illyana retrieves her soulsword and steps into a portal, shivering.

* * *

“Monet?” Illyana croaks, stumbling into the dark apartment. She thinks it’s the right one.

“Monet?” she calls again, instinctively casting a minor spell of light so she can see in front of her. She’s not sure how late it is, maybe Monet’s asleep?

“Hello?” she says, stumbling into the bedroom, “You asleep?”

Monet is huddled in a corner, wrapped in black bedsheets, with her back to Illyana.

“Monet?” Illyana says again, stepping forward.

Monet turns, her perfect face bleeding from a dozen open wounds, her fingers clutching a strange knife, tears running down her face, mixing with the blood, forming a pool on the floor.

“They're not sharp enough,” she says, but Illyana barely hears her over the sound of her own scream.


	7. Chapter 7

Illyana raises a shaking hand, trying a healing spell, but she’s too drunk, the words come out wrong and her spell sputters into a red splotch in the air, popping dismally and dropping flecks of blood magick on the floor. The stream of Monet’s blood flows into it, fizzing against the neutered spell like tonic poured into vodka. Illyana’s stomach rumbles and she swallows bile.

“Monet, stop,” begs Illyana. Monet doesn’t seem to hear her.

“I can’t get through,” Monet explains, running the knife down her cheek. “My hands are wrong.” _How is she even cutting herself, isn’t she practically invulnerable?_

Illyana shakes her head, trying to stabilize, trying to force herself sober. Some of the wounds on Monet’s face are already closing, her body rejecting the damage the way it rejects any imperfections.

 _Get it together, Illyana._ “Give me the knife, babe,” she says, reaching for it. Monet winces, then slashes the air between them.

Monet dives toward Illyana, snarling, eyes jagged, hungry. She passes through a stepping disc and Illyana drops to her knees. Illyana blinks, half surprised by her own action. Where did she just send that woman?

The stress, confusion, and fear bubble up, and Illyana vomits into the pool of drying blood and failed magick. “Oh, hell, how is there anything left,” she slurs, wiping her mouth on the black sheet Monet left behind. It smells like expensive perfume and cheap vodka.

* * *

 

“Monet?” Illyana calls, stepping into Limbo - or what should be Limbo.

It is gray and empty and cracking at the edges, the scenery before her; her footsteps kick up huge clouds of dust like walking through something dead. The grim mountains and red hellscape seem to have crumbled to a flat, dry wasteland, the raging molten fury of Limbo devolved to an empty volcanic ash.

“Limbo reflects its ruler, baby!” cackles a rough voice from behind. “And baby, you’re dead inside.”

Illyana spins, wobbling in her stupor, but nothing is there. The voice is right, but even with its accelerated timeline, she’s never seen Limbo change this much this rapidly.

Rubbing her eyes, Illyana tries to concentrate. _This is my realm. Mine. I control it here. I have to. If I can just_ -

“You don’t control shit and you know it,” the voice shouts, echoing from the distance.

“Shut up!” Illyana screams at no one, drawing her soulsword. The ground underneath her rumbles. “You think you can do this to my realm? You think you can get in my head? You think you can play mind games here, of all places? I’ve ruled Limbo since I was a child! You are nothing!” Illyana pauses to burp and wipe her mouth with her sleeve. “Show yourself and I’ll destroy you like I’ve destroyed every demon, invader, and god that ever raised a hand against me!” She points her sword at the horizon and slowly rotates, sword raised, eyes scanning the distance, feet stumbling. The voice only laughs.

Screaming in anger, Illyana plunges the soulsword into the ground in frustration. Usually the sword creates an haven of untainted ground in Limbo. Instead, the ground cracks open, dropping her below the earth and collapsing above her as she falls.

Illyana opens her mouth to scream and it fills with ash, Limbo falling apart around her like crushed charcoal, the ground swalloing her as the desiccated wasteland falls apart all around. As she tumbles through the darkness, she thrashes at the ash surrounding her, coating her hair and skin with grit. She can feel the magick that permeates the soil of Limbo flowing out of the ash as it cascades along with her. She can hear the walls of the pit breaking into chunks in a great avalanche.

“That’s enough!” thunders the voice of the Darkchild. She pushes the ash from her with magical force, the dust fading as she plummets further and further into the dark.

“It’s never enough,” says a voice, different from before. Familiar, but not quite right.

Then Illyana hits the ground and ten tons of Limbo lands on her head.

* * *

 

Illyana is lying outside Xavier’s, the summer sun heating her skin, the slow, sweet wind lightly brushing her bangs from her forehead. “Query: self-friend Illyana requires aid? Lifeglow indicates low heart rate.”

“It means she’s relaxing, ‘Lock,” laughs Doug from the swimming pool. “You should try it.”

Illyana opens her eyes, watching as Warlock shifts into a submarine-shape to return fire as Doug Ramsey splashes his alien best friend with all the power a 14 year old dweeb can muster.

“You okay, Illyana?” asks Kitty, lounging in the pool chair beside her. Illyana smiles at her. She’s so beautiful.

“Illyana?” She can’t respond. Kitty stands, concerned. “Illyana, are you okay?”

Why can’t she say anything?

“Illyana!?” Kitty is frantic, reaching out and grasping her head, shaking her. “Illyana, get up. I need you. Illyana!?”

 _She needs me._ Illyana’s eyes tear up in happiness, her sight blurring, and when it clears again Xavier’s has faded and Monet is crouched over her. “Illyana you have to get up. I need you to get us out of here.”

“What happened to Kitty?” Illyana croaks, coughing dusty chunks of Limbo from her throat, her head throbbing.

“She married her brother instead of you so you’re sleeping with me instead of dealing with your feelings,” says Monet.

Illyana’s eyes go wide and she goes into a coughing fit.

“Just because I can’t read your mind doesn’t mean I can’t see what’s going on around me,” says Monet, pulling Illyana from the mound of ash.

“Also you say her name in your sleep. Often.”

“H-how did you even know where to find me?” Illyana manages to spit out between coughs. _Just pretend she didn’t say that, move on, don’t think about it._

“It’s very quiet here, you were choking very loudly, and I can hear very, very well.” Monet brings Illyana to a sitting position. “Now get up, we have to leave. Something’s here with us.”

 _Don’t think about it._ Illyana blinks herself awake and looks around, calling her soulsword, its dim light illuminating the area. They’re lying at the bottom of a deep, deep pit, the faded gray of this new Limbo’s sky barely reaching them. A cavernous network of tunnels spread out in every direction.

“Mmmmmm...”

Illyana jumps at the noise. Something’s here all right, and close. “Help me up.”

Monet pulls her to standing and, ready to ‘port them out, Illyana puts her arm around Monet’s waist. Monet’s bare waist.

“Wait, why are you naked?” she asks.

“Is this really the time?”

“That’s why I’m asking!”

Monet puts her hand over her face. “Because I was sleeping! Now can we please get out of here.”

“Mmmmmm...”

Illyana nods emphatically, eying the woman beside her. “You said it, creepy demon voice.”

“IS THIS REALLY THE TIME?”

Illyana brings her stepping disc up around them, just as the voice continues.

“-mmmmiladyyyy...”

 _Oh, so that’s it._ Illyana stops the disc.

“OH FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” yells Monet, grabbing onto Illyana and flying up the pit.

“Wait wait wait wait wait,” Illyana says, “it’s fine, Monet.”

Monet doesn’t stop. “Absolutely not. There is a demon Redditor down there. And that might be the worst thing I have ever had to say,” she says as the touch down on the pit’s edge.

“It’s okay, he just calls people that. I don’t think he knows the connotations,” Illyana explains while unsuccessfully trying not to stare at Monet’s ass. Monet turns and smirks. “We’re in Limbo,” she continues, “and that’s a demon called N’Astirh. He caused some trouble a while back so I lobotomized him a bit.” _At least that means something survived here._

“A demon causing trouble? Never,” says Monet, putting a hand on her hip. Illyana is staring again. “My eyes are up here, Illyana.”

Illyana raises her gaze.

Monet sighs. “Further up.”

* * *

 

Illyana sits awkwardly on the edge of Monet’s bed. “Don’t you dare go anywhere,” Monet had growled before her shower. That was 40 minutes ago. _She’s testing me. She’s using her super-senses to know if I leave. She can smell me from the shower. Oh hell, I stink, don’t I?_ Illyana sniffs the air and makes a disgusted face just as Monet steps out of the bathroom.

“Oh, you’re still here?” she asks. Illyana glares. “Relax, I’m kidding.”

Monet sits on the bed. “So.”

Illyana nods. “So...”

“Are we going to talk about it?”

“Which It?”

Monet sighs. “I’m not sure.”

Illyana looks up at the woman in her black silk pajamas, her hair wrapped in a thick black towel, her skin flawless and glistening. You’d never guess she was slashing deep gashes into her face earlier this morning while spouting gibberish.

Monet meets Illyana’s gaze. “How about you start. I’ve been waiting long enough for you to talk about it.”

Illyana grimaces. “Yeah. I guess you have.” She sighs. It hurts to even start. Before she can even say a word she’s sobbing. _Get a hold of yourself._ She throws a pained glance at Monet, desperate for comfort, but she only sits there, watching. She can’t clearly see Monet’s face through the tears.

After several minutes of sobbing and several dry heaves, Illyana begins.

“I... I’ve loved her so much for so long. Since I was a child. All that time in Limbo as Belasco’s sla-” she stops, gasping for air through the sobs. “Belasco’s student. Then she was my roommate and best friend. I couldn’t say anything, I saw the way she looked at him - at Piotr. She’d tell me about it! She was- she was so clueless!” Illyana stops, feeling the heat of the Darkchild’s rage. “I _hated_ her for that,” she says in a low voice.

Monet is silent.

Illyana closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “All those years I loved her and hated her. I hated myself more. And when she left me, when she rejected me, I killed myself.”

At last Monet reacts, her eyes flashing concern, her hand reaching out. Illyana brushes it away. “Maybe I told myself at the time it was to, I don’t know, save the world. Maybe I told myself that it was because Piotr was gone. Maybe I told myself it was the inevitable end of a life like mine. But it was just her, it was only ever her, her and the hate that I couldn’t live with anymore.

“But the devil wasn’t done with me. He brought me back. Brought me back wrong, incomplete. And Piotr, I saw him, and I didn’t- I didn’t think of my brother for an instant. I just thought ‘I can’t let Kitty see me like this,’ and I put everything, everyone, _the entire fucking dimension_ , at risk to get some part of me back so I could maybe, _maybe_ , look Kitty Pryde in the eye.” Illyana wipes her face with one hand.

“And I could finally talk to her again, and I made sure that we were together again, we were - we were going to change the world together. And I told myself that I was going to tell her, finally, but she runs off again, she leaves me, runs across the universe, finds another fucking Peter to fuck and she’s gonna marry him and it kills me and- and then when she finally comes back- when she gets back, she’s changed her mind, and I think _it’s_ _finally over_ , and all I want is for things to be the way they were, for her to just _be_ with me again, I don’t even need her to love me back-”

Illyana pauses, exhausted. Monet says nothing.

“And then she marries my fucking brother, because that was all that was ever going to happen.” Illyana looks at Monet. “And I know what you went through was worse. Hell, what _I_ went through was worse. I see that, logically. And it’s not even- I always knew it was going to be this way, I always knew I was too much of a coward to tell her anything, I knew she’d never just be my Illyana again, my- my roomie. But losing my _soul_ was easier than losing her. The things I did to get it back, the murder, betraying my friends, _watching them die_ , all of it was so, so much easier. And what does that say about me?”

Illyana finally stops, drained. Exhausted. She can’t even cry anymore. She takes a deep breath, waiting for Monet to say something. She doesn’t.


End file.
